


Lightning-Stained Skies

by wynchwood



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: .....kind of, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Demon fighting, Dipper is just Dipper, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Getting Together, Government Conspiracy, Human Beast (Over the Garden Wall), Human Bill Cipher, INCREDIBLY Wirt and Beast-centric so if you're here for billdip I'm sorry, M/M, Missing Persons, Wirt comes from a long line of demon-hunters/slayers, billdip is hinted at/vaguely might happen but poetree are the stars of the show, it's complicated man, maybe the real demonic government conspiracy was the friends we made along the way, more like enemies to kinda friends to kinda lovers, no beta we die like men, teaming up, they're all teenagers and they all suck, they're both still demons/monsters but they have human forms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynchwood/pseuds/wynchwood
Summary: Wirt and Dante have been massive thorns in each other's sides for as long as they've know each other. In fact, it's something almost like a comfort at this point.However, when new people, a new lab, and an uptick in missing persons come to their town, their priorities begin to shift. For the first time in their lives, they may just have to work together to solve their town's mysteries — and, hopefully, stop anymore people from getting hurt. And if they get closer during all of this? Well, that's just something that came about through circumstance and necessity.





	Lightning-Stained Skies

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written in years. I've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while. And, I know, with PoeTree I might as well be speaking to the void.
> 
> This is just the prologue, a lot more will be established in later chapters — but, essentially, Wirt and Dante are both high-schoolers. Dante's disguising himself because he's technically an immortal monster from a different realm who can harvest and feed on human, but he's not too worried about that. Besides, his parents may be over millenia old, but he's still 16. An immortal-in-training, if you will. Wirt comes from a long lineage of people destined to destroy people like Dante, and he's very worried about that but he doesn't let it show. 
> 
> Are they enemies? Only occasionally. Are they friends? Not exactly. Are they more than friends? Neither of them are comfortable with answering that at this time. 
> 
> *UPDATE: I re-wrote/edited the prologue! Just fleshed out some stuff that needed to be better fleshed out, and the story now takes place in Massachusetts instead of Michigan. Otherwise, not much has changed! Also, next installment is coming soon, sorry for the delay!

“Nobody ever pulls the seams ’round here, but I don’t really mind that it’s starting to get to me.” – The Killers

Fairville, Massachusetts is a small, utterly unremarkable town nestled in the woods about as far away from any city you could get. It’s a town where everyone knows everyone and, for the most part, likes them too. It’s the kind of place that has town-wide block parties and barbeques and festivals every summer, where you can find nearly all 3,000 residents in attendance. No one keeps their doors locked at night, the most precaution anyone takes being screwing on the trash can lids extra tight to make sure no bears or raccoons get in.

It’s all perfectly idyllic, quiet, and safe. If only they knew, Wirt thinks.

Because, while his neighbors are asleep thinking they’re completely safe, the thrumming in Wirt’s veins tells him otherwise. This rush of adrenaline, this pull, telling him that something is not as it seems, and someone is in danger because of it. Patting his jacket to make sure his sword is still sheathed under it, Wirt picks up the pace, trudging through the snow-covered ground of the woods behind his house.

Even at 16, Wirt’s happy to do what he does. Really. The people of Fairville are weird and sometimes a little nosy but, most of all, they’re kind and good, and he wants so desperately to be able to protect them. And it’s not too much trouble. He’s been trained for it since he was a kid, both of his parents coming from a long line of people who deal with and defend the world from supernatural entities. The family business, Wirt and his mom call it, always wryly and a bit tiredly. He could start sensing things at 12, and didn’t actually start pursuing them until he was 14 — maybe after a potentially traumatic near-death experience he had with his little half-brother, but he had been successfully not processing or even thinking about that for the past two years.

So, it’s not like he’s unprepared. Even when his mom cooled down the training for anything other than self-defense after the divorce, and training with his dad then coming in semi-forbidden, bi-yearly spurts, Wirt is prepared. Fastest in track, gifted in sword-wielding and martial arts, he likes to think he’s at least somewhat qualified for being Fairville’s sole defender against the surprisingly many dark supernatural beings that wish to bring it harm.

He just wishes most of his duty-fulfilling didn’t have to take place at 2 a.m., and on a school night, no less.

But, nevertheless, Wirt walks. For 20 minutes. In the snow. Illuminating his path with his phone’s flashlight. At 2 a.m.. Because what else can he do? Letting whatever entity do what it wants, killing someone or worse, isn’t an option. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself.

When he comes across a clearing, finding his target, Wirt groans. _This guy_.

The creature — who is most definitely not a human teenage boy, despite how good his disguise may be — is tall, and dark. It’s so dark that Wirt can’t see the gnarled, tortured faces that make up his form that he knows are there. His antlers point upwards, interrupting the skyline with jagged, harsh lines of black lightning.

Turning at the sound Wirt makes, pointing his headlight-eyes in his direction, the Beast also reveals his two latest victims. Two grown men, unconscious and tangled in the Beast’s signature roots and branches. Underneath the wood, Wirt tries to make out what they’re wearing– And are those_ nurse’s uniforms!? Come on, Dante_, Wirt thinks a bit hysterically.

“Wirt,” he greets him. His voice is so much _deeper_ in this form, Wirt fails to ignore.

“Beast.”

There’s stillness, for a moment.

Wirt sighs, striding forward.

“Let these people go.”

The Beast tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in what Wirt has learned to decipher as a mocking expression. Or maybe it’s exasperation. Wirt wouldn’t be surprised, they’ve been massive thorns in each other’s sides for as long as they’ve known each other. It’s been over two years, at this point.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that,” the Beast says.

It always goes like this. Dante — no, the Beast — tries to turn someone into an Edelwood tree, effectively ending their natural life and damning their soul to– well, Wirt’s not entirely sure. Purgatory, he thinks. Maybe hell, or something like it. Whatever happens to you when your life is used to fuel that of an immortal. And Wirt, unable to let that happen, has to stop him.

Wirt sighs, drawing his sword from his jacket. A gift from his dad, apparently blessed by hundreds of churches and temples and spiritual establishments Wirt doesn’t even know about. Its silver blade, long and sharp, glints in the moonlight, an inscription in a long-forgotten language carved onto its face. A blade that is capable of killing Dante, or, at the very least, banishing him from the human realm.

Dante’s eyes flick from Wirt’s face to the sword. It’s a subtle movement, given he has no pupils in this form. But fortunately — or perhaps unfortunately, for both of them — Wirt always watches him closely. He doesn’t swing.

“I mean it,” he tries again. “Let them go.”

He shoots another worried glance the two men’s way. They’re still only unconscious, which is good. A little pale, if anything. Both entirely unaware of the two beings, neither entirely human, arguing about whether they should live or die.

“Why should I?” Dante throws his arms up in a shrug.

Wirt grits his teeth, temper aggravating. “Because,” he snaps, “these are two living, breathing _humans_ who don’t deserve to have their lives– their lives _stolen_ by monsters like you. They have families, and friends, and people who care about them. So, you’re gonna let them go. Because, if you don’t, _I will stab you_.”

Wirt wants to wince as soon as he says it, but all he can do is breathe angrily, his chest moving under his jacket rapidly. For a moment, that’s the only sound of this cold, shitty night.

“Well, I definitely don’t want you to stab me,” Dante finally says, tone unoffended and teasing. Some deeply buried, distant part of Wirt is almost relieved. “Jesus, you’re prickly tonight. Something else wrong?”

Wirt glares again. “It’s 2 a.m.”

“So? It isn’t like it’s a school night.”

“You don’t–” he groans. “Fucking– We go back _tomorrow_. Break ends the 2nd.”

Dante’s shoulders sag a little. “Oh,” is all he says. Wirt kind of wants to laugh, but he’s too irritated.

“Yeah. So, like, let them go. I don’t want to be out here any longer and I’m sure you don’t want that either.” Dante blinks at him. Wirt points his sword again, just in case his previous points need more emphasizing. He's fairly sure it does nothing.

“You know,” Dante says, voice going eerily conversational. “If you’re so tired, you don’t have to keep stopping me. Surrender–”

“Keep dreaming, asshole.”

“Eugh. Fine. _Fine_.”

With a wave of his hand, the branches keeping the two men captive recede back into the earth, leaving the men to crumple to the ground. And, yep, those are definitely nurse’s uniforms, which Wirt is so disgusted by he can’t even bring himself to comment on them. He has more pressing matters to deal with anyway. They’re still pale and sickly-looking, and laying on the snow can’t be very good for that.

“They better–” he begins to say.

“They’ll wake up in 30 minutes,” Dante cuts him off, glaring at him like _he’s_ the problem here.

“And?”

“They’ll walk back to their cars and go home. They won’t remember anything from tonight, free to carry on with their pathetic — malevolent, may I add — lives.”

Wirt rolls his eyes. Dante can throw all the SAT words he wants at him, that doesn’t change the fact he’s actively trying to kill people.

If it would actually change anything, Wirt would voice how upset and disappointed he is. But, on top of all that, he’s also exhausted. The burst of adrenaline he’d gotten is beginning to disappear, now that the threat’s been neutralized. He isn’t exactly in the mood to get into the same argument with Dante they’ve been having since they were both 14-year-olds.

Dante’s immortal, yes, but he hasn’t actually reached the “immortality” part of his lifespan. At least that’s how he explained it to Wirt, during one of their more peaceful encounters. He’s Wirt’s age, still, but he’s going to live for much longer than Wirt is. However, for now, he spends his days disguising himself as the human Dante Blackwood — or perhaps that is his given name, Wirt’s not sure — and attending Fairville High School. His endgame, at least deduced by Wirt, is to learn about humans now so that he’ll have an easier time killing them in the future. And, okay, Wirt knows deep down it’s definitely not as simple as that. But he’s pissed, and really not all that interested in Dante’s justifications right now.

“Fine,” Wirt says. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to bed.”

He sheathes his sword, slipping it back into his jacket. He can still feel Dante’s eyes on him, even as he averts his own. He looks back up to shoot him a meaningful glare.

“Do _not_ try anything,” he says. “If you do, I’ll know. And if that happens, well.” Wirt doesn’t feel the need to restate the point he made not too long ago.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dante says, waving his hand dismissively. “Goodnight, Wirt.”

Wirt flips him off, turning on his heel as he heads back the way he came. He checks the time on his phone, and it’s 2:45. He won’t be getting much sleep before his first day back at school after winter break, although that’s not necessarily unusual.

Walking back, he feels oddly nauseous. _I will stab you_, his mind repeats. _I will stab you. I will stab you._ Just that and the sound of his feet against the snow. It’s not the first threat like that he’s made to Dante by a long shot, but definitely one of the more graphic ones. He never enjoys making them, anyhow.

It’s easier, Wirt thinks, with the other monsters. Non-sentients, hellhounds and the like. Things that don’t talk to him, and haven’t been going to school with him for two years. With them, Wirt simply swings his sword and they evaporate, and he knows that they’ve just gone back to the monster realm, and will respawn later. The logistics and ethics of causing Dante to evaporate and go back to his home realm, however, are much more complicated. Wirt tries not to think about it too much, if he’s being honest.

Stepping out of the woods, Wirt enters his backyard, the back windows of his house still blessedly dark and empty.

The O’Connor-Zhang — O’Connor-Zhang-Palmer? Wirt doesn’t know if he gets to put his own respective last name in there — household is a two-story (three, if you count the basement), blue-painted colonial situated in the middle of Selah Drive. It was home to Wirt, his mom, his step-dad, Sam, and his little brother, Greg, and had been for the past ten years. Considering it was an ungodly time of night, and Wirt, Greg, and Sam — who’s a science teacher at his high school — all had to go back to school tomorrow, everyone should be asleep.

Looking at the basement window he left cracked open so he could sneak back in, Wirt knows that, at the very least, he hasn’t been caught yet. That’s good. It’s not that his mom or step-dad are particularly strict — being a college professor and high school teacher respectively, their whole schtick is healthy boundaries and teenage freedom — but coming home at 3 a.m. on a school night is still probably crossing a line, and would most definitely lead to some questioning. Plus, his mom has been _very clear_ about her stance on Wirt fighting supernatural forces on his own, that being a hard no. But, seeing as she’s retired and won’t be doing it, well, Wirt doesn’t exactly have options.

Wirt walks as light as possible, cringing as his feet crunch the snow just below his mom’s and Sam’s bedroom. Reaching the edge of the house, he crouches down to wrench the basement window the rest of the way open. He shimmies through with about as much grace as someone can squeeze themselves through a tight space, and lands on the beige basement carpet below.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He’s just about home free, if he’s found walking around the house, he can just claim he’s coming from elsewhere in the house and is on his way to bed. Still facing the wall, he begins to shrug his coat off, letting it fall to the floor.

“_Wirt Palmer_,” his mom’s voice interrupts and foils that train of thought.

He shouts in surprise, whipping around to face her. She’s dressed in pajamas, a messy bun resting at the nape of her neck. She’s holding a flashlight under her face for dramatic effect, making her look gaunt and toeing the line between ridiculous and terrifying. The look she’s giving Wirt with her deep brown eyes is dark and severe.

For Wirt, at least, her appearance is toeing closer to terrifying. Wuying “Grace” Zhang, he knows, is not a woman to be messed with.

He still tries, though.

“_Mom_, what the hell?”

“Want to tell me why you’re sneaking in?” she asks. Wirt begins to open his mouth to respond– “And _don’t_ say you weren’t sneaking. The basement window. Really?”

She reaches for a lightswitch on the wall, causing sudden brightness to take over the room. Wirt groans, moving to briefly shield his eyes.

“I didn’t want to wake you guys up,” he says.

His mom’s eyes narrow. “It was too late for that when I went to get some water and I found you _gone_,” she says. “Out of your bed. Nowhere to be found.”

Wirt frowns. “If you were really worried,” he says, “you would’ve called the cops. Or called _me_.”

He tries to run some calculations in his head. He’s been gone for about an hour. At the earliest, his mom realized he was missing right around 2:15. She went to bed and said goodnight to him around 11 p.m.. So, really, in his mom’s eyes, he could’ve been gone for any amount of time from one hour to four.

Now, if only he was crafty enough or good enough of a liar to use that.

“It’s not about that!” his mom says. “You’re a smart boy. I know you can handle yourself. It’s about–”

“_Transparency_, I know,” he finishes for her, completing the lecture he’s heard hundreds of times.

His mom sighs. “You know I don’t enforce a strict curfew–”

“Because they’re totalitarian and restrict my freedom as a growing adult,” Wirt says, reciting another mantra he’s heard plenty of times.

“Stop interrupting me!” she snaps. “Come on, 3 a.m. on a school night? What were you even doing?”

Wirt has a half-baked lie already prepared, but he’s slow to deliver it. In that time, his mom’s eyes fall on his crumpled jacket on the floor, and the sheathed sword on top of it. She lets out a small gasp, her gaze going severe again as she meets Wirt’s eyes.

“Tell me you weren’t out doing what I think you were doing,” she says tightly, knuckles going white around the flashlight she’s still holding.

Wirt instantly feels guilty, a weight twisting and heavy finding a way into his chest. He knows his mom retired from the “family business” for a reason. Hell, he knows she divorced his dad for a very similar reason. In short, his mom doesn’t want him to ever fight the supernatural entities in their town, let alone feel obligated to and disrupt the normal teenage life she wants him to have. Wirt can understand all of this, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that the people of Fairville, and likely many other towns, need their help. But, they’ve gone in circles about this too many times for Wirt to try voicing any of his thoughts on it now.

“Of course not, Mom,” he says instead. “Come on, you know I wouldn’t.”

She raises a brow at him, as if to say _well, then what? _

“I was… at Jason’s,” he says, feigning shame by averting his eyes. “Us and some of our other friends couldn’t fall asleep, so we went over there to watch movies until we were all tired. His parents are out of town. That’s it.”

Not the most convincing lie ever, but Jason’s parents _are_ out of town. Plus, Wirt, Jason, and Sara all have a pact with each other to lie to parents whenever necessary. Not that Jason would actually need to, considering Wirt’s mom rarely goes to Wirt or Greg’s friends to try to corroborate her kids’ lies.

If anything, Wirt thinks while resisting the urge to gag a little, his mom may think he’s just lying about the part where him and Jason weren’t alone. Wirt came out to his family — and not so much as came out, rather than just stating it as a fact, as he was fortunate enough to grow up in a town where being gay isn’t a big deal whatsoever — years ago, and his mom’s always going on about how sweet she thinks Jason is. That aside, though, Wirt is more than willing to let his mom think that he and Jason were doing whatever if that means she doesn’t think he was out fighting monsters.

“Then why the sword?” she asks.

Wirt shrugs. “I thought it’d be good to bring it if I was gonna be out so late,” he says, partially genuine. “Just to be safe, you know? For self-defense.”

She frowns, still skeptical. “Okay,” she says. “But if you weren’t tired, you should’ve just taken a Benadryl or something. Now you’re going to be exhausted at school tomorrow.”

“I know it was stupid. I’m an idiot, okay? Sorry for making you worry.”

Wuying sighs, muttering under her breath something that sounds suspiciously like _teenagers_. “You’re not stupid by any means.”

She pulls him into a hug, and Wirt finds himself leaning into it. He never likes fighting with Dante, or anyone, for that matter, and he’ll take the misdirected comfort any way he can. He places an obnoxious kiss on her cheek, which causes his mom to grin.

“At least get some rest, sweetie,” she says.

Wirt nods, moving out of her arms to grab his jacket and sword. They head up the first flight of stairs together, quietly moving through the living room to get to the second one that leads to the bedrooms upstairs. The house is dark and almost silent, the various furniture and other items scattered throughout it reduced to dark, vague shapes in Wirt’s line of vision. Wirt reaches his bedroom door, tiptoeing past Greg’s before he gently wrenches it open.

“Hey,” his mom whispers after him, causing him to turn. “Make sure you put that sword _away_.”

He gives his mom a mock salute, which she rolls her eyes at, but she doesn’t shut her own bedroom door without blowing him a kiss. Wirt throws his jacket down, ready to strip down to his boxers and a T-shirt and pass out. For less than three hours, that is. Yep, questions of morality aside, he is _furious_ at Dante. He kicks his sword under his bed, strips, and lays down. In the dark, he plugs in his phone to its charger and sets it on his nightstand.

He’s surprised to hear it buzz, figuring no one else would be awake besides him, who actually has a semi-good reason. Wirt opens his messages to reveal a text from Sara.

**S: FUCK**, it reads.

Wirt furrows his brow. **W: ????????**, he types back.

**S: WE HAVE TO GO IN EARLY TOMORROW**

**S: I WAS JUST MINDING MY BUSINESS, STAYING UP, THE USUAL, IYKYK **

**S: BUT THEN **

**S: BUT THEN I R E M E M B E R E D **

**S: WE GIVE TOURS TOMORROW **

Wirt groans, his head falling back on his pillows. Sure, student council is going to look great on his college applications, but at that very moment Wirt ponders how much it’s truly worth. Not getting up early enough for a 7:15 tour, that’s certain.

Seriously, _fuck_ Dante.

**W: shit.**

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to like and subscribe, k bye
> 
> Jk I'll try to update semi-regularly but my schedule's pretty sporadic with school right now. Maybe monthly??? We'll shoot for monthly. But lmk what y'all think so I'll know if I should continue at all!!


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